Making the Broken, Beautiful

When I read "Broken" by X. Fang and thought about a memory of something broken, I immediately thought about a glass jar that held cigars tightly packed in concentric circles. This jar was not something that I broke. No. But I can see it vividly even though this memory is close to 60 years old.  I thought the glass container was so beautiful, encircled by a red satin ribbon, holding something my father enjoyed – cigars.  When I saw it in the store, I knew I had to buy it for him for Father’s Day.  I was so pleased with myself and knew he would be proud of me.

Joy to Writers: Lessons from 2nd Grade

 This week, I had the great pleasure of working with our 2nd grade students.  I did a short, guided listening activity in which I gave them multi-step directions and then they drew from memory.  The object they were creating was a girl, a simple shape by shape little girl with a party hat on her head and a present in one hand.  They all followed the directions perfectly. Then I asked them:  What is the girl’s name? Who is the present for?  What happened at the party?  Then on the back of their paper, they were asked to tell a story. It is still amazing to me what young children can do with a simple prompt.

A Grateful Writer

Thanksgiving gave me time to pause, time to reflect on the changes happening in my own life and all around me.  It made stop and think about what I truly hold as important.  Blogging for the past five years, has given me the space in which I form and share ideas. I write about books, art, people, and concepts that intrigue me, that I want to learn more about.  By writing, I come to understand things at a much deeper level. 

Revisiting a Young Writer’s Practice

As a child, I loved to write. The pencil was an extension of my hand and mind.  I found that all the stories in my head could be released onto beautiful blank white paper.  This revelation was exciting to me.  I couldn’t wait to jot down my stories. It took me some time to realize that not everyone in the world finds writing fun and adventurous.  It wasn’t until I became a teacher that I learned that there are children who have trouble getting their stories down on paper.

The Serene Art of Forest Bathing

The muted, burnished colors reflected in the mountain pools were so incredibly soothing.  They blended together in wavy lines.  The trees, the leaves, the water became one, and I wanted to plunge in and cover myself in autumnal splendor.  It is in these moments that the real and the imagined join forces and cast a magical energy.

Art as Gratitude

I hadn’t thought of art as a vehicle for gratitude, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized that it was exactly that – art is a prayer sent out to all calling for peace, beauty, love, all the colors of the rainbow, the rain coming softly down washing everything clean. This weekend, I looked back at some of the photos I’ve taken and suddenly saw prayers of gratitude embedded in their images.